Crimson Moon

by J. A. Saare

  I had been told about the Prince, before but only in snippets. Each house was controlled by one person. He or she was in charge of maintaining day to day things, such as business arrangements. Money was incredibly important, and managing it was something vampires had done successfully for years. But they also kept order and balance, reporting to the Prince when things went amiss. It was his judgment that sent my Father inside your head.

  Our house wasn't governed by my Father as I'd automatically assumed from the start. The man who raised him from a child, Blace DeViard, ran the house I would be tied to.

  "What about everything back home?” I asked, unable to fight back my sadness. Even though I knew I had to let it go.

  "I spoke with the doctor at Franklin.” Mom's face was equally sad, her eyes darkening to a ruddy brown. “Mom isn't doing so well, Emma. She hasn't been for a very long time. She is incoherent most days; the dementia has all but taken over. Right now, she's as comfortable and happy as she can be. Even if you went back, even if we went back, she wouldn't know us. I know you planned to return to her, but I don't think it's such a wise decision."

  I nodded, tears brimming at the unexpected pain the knowledge wrought. “And the house?"

  "If you want to keep the house, you can,” Dad said quietly. “And you don't have to rush to decide. Right now, it's locked up and safe. That's one decision you don't have to rush. You need to keep things as simple as you can."

  "You're right.” I sniffed, forcing back tears. This was supposed to be a happy announcement, not full of the waterworks or regret. “Okay, I'll wait on the house."

  "Is there anything else you need to take care of?” Mom asked quietly, her beautiful face melancholy, her private meaning blaringly evident.

  I wasn't sharing what I intended to do with her or with them, but Trent probably knew. He slipped in and out of my mind as easily as I did myself. But if he heard my thoughts, he remained quiet. I suppose listening in served one good purpose, he was learning about the value of keeping his distance.

  "No.” I forced my smile to be as real as possible. “I'm ready."

  I sat covered in the multitude of sweaters, blouses and shirts. An assortment of varying shades of red, brown, peach, blue and purple, with a random cream and white thrown in for variety.

  I decided to make that pile after all, tossing everything into the corner and running in my socks at breakneck speed to dive headfirst into the cushioned stack. I let the inner child in me resurface, allowing her to play and have a bit of fun. I missed that carefree portion of myself.

  I had been serious for far too long.

  I lifted myself free of the sleeves and turtlenecks, walking out of the closet and into the bedroom.

  As promised, Keith had found plain stationary, placing a pen, paper, and envelope for me on the dresser. I lifted the paper and pen with trembling fingers, stepping slowly to the bed.

  The pen was expensive, requiring a practice run of circles and strokes. I twirled the tip around the thick white paper, discovering the proper pressure and movement.

  Words came easier than I thought. Time and acceptance eased my pain, making the task at hand easier to bear. A letter wouldn't change anything, and that's why I chose to write it. No matter what, I would always know I didn't step away without saying goodbye.

  Dear Caleb,

  I understand now, even if I didn't at first. I'm doing what you wanted of me, staying safe with my family. I hope in some small way it gives you comfort, as you said it would. I will never forget you or what we shared together, no matter how brief and short lived.

  Please remember. You can't change the world or even control it. We're all at the mercy of the wheel of fate. The only thing you can control is how you live before the unexpected happens.

  Be happy,

  Emma

  I folded the paper into three sections, pressing it to my lips and placing it inside the envelope. I held it against my chest, close to my heart, projecting energy I didn't have around and inside the missive so that he might sense my emotions as he opened the seal and read the words. When I finished, I returned the paper and letter back to the top of the antique dresser.

  The final thing I needed to do was, oddly enough, the hardest.

  I went back into the closet, reaching for the handmade box on the wooden shelf. It was tall, crafted from dark walnut; the little hinges poured from real white gold. I opened the bottom drawer, plush red velvet underlining sliding against the wood. I hesitated, nervous fingers quivering at the sight of the tiny black box that had been cast inside and purposely forgotten two weeks before.

  I hadn't touched my Mother's ring since its return, only glimpsing the velveteen box it traveled within.

  I lifted the lid carefully, observing the shimmering flash of light from the plain white gold band nestled inside. I removed the band tentatively, tracing my fingers over the smooth, heavy and familiar metal. I slipped the ring on to the third finger of my right hand, feeling the cool band nestle comfortably against the skin where it belonged. As if it never left in the first place.

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  Chapter 22—Ascension

  The flight to London was short. So short, in fact, we had no plans to stay after the gathering. We were to dress for the occasion in the jet and drive straightaway from the airport to the venue. The gathering was in a secret location, hidden in an underground site.

  My Mother looked heavenly. Her thick long hair plunged down her back with two thin braids creating a crown along the top of her head. Her periwinkle dress had an empire waist that hung like a flowing wrap, accenting her small frame.

  My Father was equally impressive inside his expensive navy suit with a velvet tie that matched Moms dress. His unkempt hair tumbled around his ears and neck, giving him an edge and making him appear more youthful.

  Trent was mesmerizing, as always. The suit was his color of choice, black. The crisp white shirt under the jacket was unbuttoned at the top, displaying his smooth skin, and he didn't wear a tie. His blonde hair was neat, the top a tad smoother than normal. His aqua eyes sparkled inside his face, enhancing the elegant eyebrows arching over them like carefully painted brush strokes.

  My dress was chosen by my Mother. It was black, the sleeves and shoulders cut into a modest front, dipping low down the back. The waist was tight, emphasizing the flared bottom that hung at the knee.

  She helped place my hair into another up-do, taming my waves into perfect spirals that surrounded my face. I insisted the heels be shorter this time; I didn't want to fall down and embarrass myself.

  We finished the ensemble with a necklace from my Father. The white gold chain clung like a choker in front—the charm suspended down my back. The diamond briolette necklace dangled between my shoulder blades; a cold tickle against my skin.

  Today was the day we prepared for—my official introduction into vampire society. Now that I had chosen to embrace the lifestyle my parents so hoped I would, there was no turning back. Blace DeViard, the head of my Father's house, set everything into motion.

  I would be changed within the month, given the next few weeks as a final human sabbatical. This Christmas would be the first I shared with my parents, as well as the first I would spend as a vampire. Tonight was the first step that would trigger an irrevocable domino effect.

  We drove to the location as the sun dipped behind the horizon. We traveled to an old building, the exterior bricks and stones chipped and cracking, ancient cobbled floors uneven beneath our feet.

  My Father led the way, striding past the narrow alley and nodding at the man beside the door. He was dressed in a suit, black glasses covering his eyes. He opened the door and allowed us to pass, bending at the waist. The long hallway inside was covered with various paintings, concealing the brick colored paint directly behind.

  Dad motioned to an elevator and we all went inside, waiting as he came in behind us. His hand vanished into his pocket and he removed a key. He stepped to the panel and press
ed it into a tiny spot along the bottom. The elevator buckled under our feet, descending quietly.

  "Now, Emmaline.” Dad sounded almost stern, returning the key to his pocket and facing me. “Do not leave our sight. Trent or I must always be with you."

  "I know. I'll stay close,” I promised. One nugget of knowledge had been drilled into my head repeatedly.

  Do not leave their sight—ever.

  The doors opened and Dad exited first, placing his arm around my Mother. Trent mirrored his movement, gently wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me close.

  He leaned down to whisper, “In case I don't get the chance to tell you, you're the most beautiful woman here tonight."

  "Flattery will get you everywhere with me,” I teased, staring ahead and smiling. “And you don't look bad yourself."

  My stomach churned as we approached two men in front of bulky wooden doors. They pulled the thick wood aside and music emptied into the hall—harps, violins, flutes, clarinets, and of course, a piano.

  Crystal chandeliers hung from unbelievably high ceilings, various flowers draped across the walls and tables. Servers carried trays with wine and champagne, offering them to those standing empty handed. Intricate woven tapestries hung from the golden colored walls, matching the thick marble flooring under my feet. Directly ahead was a large set of stairs leading to a prepared platform, where wooden chairs with velvet cushions were situated.

  My eyes skittered around. The people inside the room were beyond any palpable definition of beauty. Their skin, so like Trent's, was pale and brilliant; the surface perfectly smooth. Their eyes sparkled brilliantly in a broad spectrum of colors, each shimmering like diamonds. They moved gracefully, as my parents did, many of their movements too quick for my human eyes to ascertain.

  The few humans were easy to identify. Our hair didn't shine and our skin wasn't as pale or luminescent. Our movements were shaky and awkwardly slow in comparison.

  "How many are here for the ascension?” I whispered against Trent's shoulder.

  "Six, including you,” he answered, following Dad's path across the room.

  Groups of beautiful people were clumped together throughout the space. Different families, I assumed. Their voices were hushed and soft, lyrical and euphonic. I caught the attention of several vampires as we passed. Their gazes lingered on me and I felt each set of eyes, inwardly praying they weren't dipping inside my mind as well. That was one relief to be had after I changed; eavesdropping wouldn't be as easy.

  "Not for me,” Trent promised, bending to my ear. “I've been in and out of your mind for months now."

  "I'm not surprised,” I goaded, smiling as we passed two people in uniforms who bowed to us, “After all, staying out of my mind would mean you actually have manners."

  His shoulders bowed, as if pained, and he winced. “That hurts, Emma."

  The group of vampires my Father approached divided upon his arrival, opening the circle around him. Mom held her head high, standing alongside him, and I smiled.

  A man strode forward as they approached. He was lean, taller than my Father, and beautiful. His long brown hair was tied at the neck, his chocolate brown eyes emitting that glow that distinguished him as immortal. His skin was the same flawless pale perfection I'd recognize immediately.

  "Blace,” my Father addressed him, bowing low as did my Mother. Eyes settled on me as they lifted their shoulders and smiled in my direction. “We would like to formally introduce our daughter, Emmaline."

  I struggled to conceal my shock. Blace traveled to me so quickly my human eyes couldn't track the movements. Vampire motions were deft, graceful, and fast. He nodded at Trent and he released me, stepping back and away.

  "Give me your wrist, child,” Blace's voice compelled, his profuse Scottish brogue so like my Father.

  My palm was in his hand but I didn't recall moving. He lowered his face to my skin, nose pressing against the sensitive flesh, inhaling the sweet smell of my blood. I felt myself tremble, tendrils of nervousness prickling down my spine.

  "You have the look of your Mother and the power of your Father,” he told me, drawing air through his nose, deeply this time. “Yes, it's so strong, directly under the surface.” He didn't look back to my Father as he addressed him. “She is a most welcome addition to our family, Luca.” He released my hand as he spoke, “We receive you gladly into our fold, little Emmaline."

  I felt disoriented, confused and cloudy, as he returned to his spot in the circle. I hadn't seen him move again. One minute he was there, the next he was gone.

  My Mother and Father returned to me as the DeViard clan converged around Blace once more, shielding his tall frame from view. I shook my head to clear the haze, trying to recall why I gave him my hand.

  "Mind control," Trent whispered privately in my mind.

  "Emma?” Mom asked worriedly, her usually serene face concerned.

  "I'm fine Mom.” I smiled, blinking rapidly.

  I touched her arm and she settled as I hoped she would. My Father glanced at Trent, a silent communication taking place between them. Trent nodded and returned to my side, his arm encircling my waist once more.

  "Lily,” Dad whispered into my Mother's ear. “I've waited the entire flight to dance with you, shall we?"

  Mom smiled and nodded, placing her arm inside the crook of his arm. They walked to the open end of the room, near the orchestra and dance floor. They looked amazing together, the love between them radiating outward for everyone to see. Dad opened his arms as they stepped onto the oval surface and she slipped trustingly into them. Their bodies moved together in absolute unison, eyes seeing only each other.

  Trent leaned down to whisper in my ear, “I envy them."

  "Me too,” I said, heart aching, remembering someone who'd let me go to protect me.

  "Let's join them.” Trent offered his arm and I hesitated. Dancing in private was one thing, but this was a completely different environment.

  Trent chuckled at my uncertainty, tucking my hand inside his arm and pulling me with him. I kept pace, more concerned about falling in my heels than moving across the dance floor. He pulled us into the center, placing my hand on his shoulder and grasping the other gently in his fingers.

  "Relax.” He smiled, his confident steps moving us around the floor. I struggled at first—it was awkward moving my feet in the dress shoes—but I quickly got the hang of it, following his lead. He was elegant as he moved, exactly as I remembered.

  "You're very good,” I confessed, smiling into his face. His aqua eyes shined brilliantly in the crystalline lighting.

  "Thank you. You're doing remarkably well for your first time in public,” he offered praise, sharing a rare full smile.

  His teeth were perfect, just like the rest of him. I glanced away, eyes finding my parents once more. They swirled together, Mom's dress flowing around their legs as they moved. She looked exquisite, the large smile gracing her face making her even lovelier. Her hazel eyes flashed a grass green, perfectly visible across the dance floor.

  A woman crossed the shining wooden floor. She tapped my Father on the shoulder, whispering and smiling seductively. She was gorgeous, the dark ebony hair hanging to her waist enhancing her porcelain skin. She was draped in red velvet, doe like eyes gleaming amber.

  My Mother smiled but it didn't extend to her eyes. She bowed courteously, moving away as Dad wrapped his arms around the stranger and spun her around the dance floor.

  I released Trent, frowning as I hurried to my Mother's departing back. She walked to a server holding a tray full of champagne and took a flute, bringing it to her lips. Her green eyes were darkening, shifting to a hazel brown. Demonstrating that changing to vampire didn't remove all traces of former humanity.

  "Mom, are you okay?"

  "I'm fine.” She tried to reassure me but I wasn't fooled.

  I stood next to her, shoulders brushing. I didn't wrap my arm around her as I wanted to, too concerned the display would let the woman with my Fath
er know she was successful in her attempts to unravel her.

  "Who is she?” I thought to Trent, incensed and outraged.

  He stood where I had left him, watching everything unfold across the room. “That is none other than Monica Acarons. The woman your Father was supposed to marry."

  My eyes narrowed, following their graceful movements. She smiled at my Father, wrapping her arms possessively around his shoulders. He was unfailingly polite, nodding as she spoke, but his smile was strained. She lifted her hand to touch his hair, turning her head and laughing.

  "Okay, enough of that,” I snapped.

  I left my Mother and strode across the floor toward them. She would not smite my parents in front of everyone here, not if I had anything to say about it.

  "Excuse me?” I tapped my Father gently on the shoulder and gray eyes lit with happiness and relief. “May I cut in?"

  Dad attempted to remove himself from her grasp but she held on tight. She glared at me, smirking. “We haven't finished this dance, if you don't mind."

  "Actually, I do. Dad promised me the dance of my choice and this is it.” Maneuvering close to him. I pressed into his chest, into the small amount of space left.

  She seethed at me in absolute fury. She was stronger and could have easily stopped me, but after a moment she let go, stepping clear of us.

  Dad immediately swept us across the floor, his warm smile returning. “Thank you, lass."

  "My pleasure, believe me.” I bit my lip, resisting the urge to tell him exactly how I felt about Monica Acarons.

  He danced lightly across the floor, making it easy to keep pace. His arms were secure and gentle as he led me, our laughter erupting in unison as he whirled our bodies around. The song ended and he cupped my neck, leaning forward to press a tender kiss to my forehead.

  "I love you, Emmaline.” Although he told me this daily, it felt more significant on the dance floor amidst a room full of people.

  "Love you, too.” I felt my eyes burn and bit my cheek to keep the tears from flowing.